


Five Times Noel And Julian Ignored The Elephant In The Room (And One Time They Didn't)

by Kahvi



Category: Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-29
Updated: 2008-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel and Julian spent most of their relationship ignoring the most obvious thing about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Noel And Julian Ignored The Elephant In The Room (And One Time They Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://smaych.livejournal.com/profile)[**smaych**](http://smaych.livejournal.com/) for helping me hammer out the errors!

 

1

The kid, Noel, looks barely old enough to be in a place like this, much less perform in one. He came up to Julian, all big hair and wide smiles, telling him he was wonderful, and Julian decided, instantly, to dislike him. He looked... _weird_ somehow; like he didn't belong. It was like there were too many features in his face, all jostling for position. "I'll see you after, yeah?" The little imp grins, twirling a lock of his too-big hair, and leaves before Julian can answer, skinny hips swaying, like a girl. Ridiculous.

He doesn't know what made him stay. Curiosity, maybe. The kid has perseverance, he'll give him that. Cigarette in hand, Julian leans back against the back wall of the club, blowing smoke towards the stage, and listening to the incoherent murmur of the crowd. The compeer says his words, and Noel comes on.

Julian doesn't notice he's frozen in place until the cigarette burns down to his fingers.

"I knew you'd stick around. How'd you like it, then? All right?"

The kid's hair is slick with sweat from the crowd and the stage-light, and sticks to his forehead in a way that really shouldn't look seductive. Fuck; how old is he – nineteen? Julian watches his lips move, and then stop moving, and knows he's supposed to say something. The kid grins, and they are terribly close, pushed together by the crowds and lack of space. He needs to say something, or whatever it is, this state they're in, will burst, and none of them will come out alive. "Oh," he splutters, saving them both. "Yeah. Good. Right."

Noel laughs. "I knew you'd love it."

  
2

They are lying in Julian's gigantic bed, and Noel wonders if he's passing out from the vodka, or the constant stream of ideas. It's exhausting, writing with Julian, sometimes, but it's the best thing he's done, ever, that doesn't involve taking his clothes off. He will, however, happily snuggle up against a fully clothed Julian in the night, because it's not like it means anything. It is warmth, and comfort, and safety, and _good_. It's Julian. It's like an extension of himself, only tall, narrow-eyed and northern. You don't have sex with yourself, or at least, not like that.

"Hey, Ju…" he mumbles, turning over to find that Julian has fallen asleep. Eerie, blue moonlight falls across his face like some ridiculous cliché, and Noel tries hard not to giggle. It comes out anyway; like a burst of bubbly air.

Julian stirs, opens his eyelids, and suddenly it's a fucking romance novel. Just the two of them, locking eyes, in a _bed_ , for Christ's sakes. "Whu?" Julian is sleepy, and drunk, and he won't remember this in the morning.

Noel licks his lips. He looks away, just for a second or two, but when he looks back, Julian's asleep again.

A few minutes later, so is Noel.

3

  
The noise and the music makes it impossible to hear what Noel is saying, but Julian nods anyway, enjoying the steady rhythm of it against the side of his face, just about where the drunken Fielding thinks his ear is at. Maybe it's because he's used to it by then; the lips brushing against his cheek now and again, the constant movement, that he doesn't flinch or back away when Noel gently turns his face around and presses their lips together.

It's strange how invisible you are, on a crowded dance-floor. People are all around them; it's more like a can of sardines than a venue, but they each have their own, private little worlds, with no need to intrude on others. Julian doesn't think, hardly even moves as Noel's tongue explores the outskirts of his mouth. It… does things to him; things he's not prepared to confront, right now, not with Noel's girlfriend at the bar, pretending not to see them.

When the music stops, they move apart, pretending like it never happened.

It never happens a lot after that, and they keep it that way, in silent acknowledgement of that invisible barrier they must never break.

  
4

Sometimes, you get drunk enough that you stop seeing the bits of the world that aren't important. Noel feels himself sinking happily into that place right now, still in his costume, not even half of the way to the hotel. It's all right though; he won't fall. Someone is supporting him. There is the faint, gruff impression of a familiar voice, and eventually, the warmth of an inside environment. He is dumped on something soft and couch-like, and sits there, humming gently, until the world goes dark for a while.

It reappears some time later, as he is tucked into something clean-smelling and comfortable, feeling the absences of clothes and boots. Nervous hands flutter about him, and he grabs one, bringing it to his mouth. Up close, it looks familiar, as though he'd needed confirmation, and Noel kisses it.

"Noel…" Julian says, somewhere far away, sounding like he's the one all wrapped up in cotton.

"Will you marry me?"

The hand twitches.

"I honestly love you, you know. Dee won't mind. I'll marry both of you," Noel murmurs, as the world slips away again.

When he wakes up, the hand is gone.

  
5

  
 _Actually sleeping, these days_ , Julian types into his phone, lips tight. _Come over_ \- he agonizes over a full stop or a question mark, compromising on nothing at all. There is no reply for half a day, until the doorbell rings at half-past six. Julian opens the door to reveal an unshaven Noel, huddling in sunglasses. You'd think he was the one with infant twins.

They don't speak until Julian is sat in the lounge settee, with Noel perching on one end like a hung-over parrot. "You feeling human now, then?" Noel asks, looking at his own painting on the wall opposite, just above Julian's head.

"I'm sorry."

Noel turns his gaze downwards, but leaves his glasses on. "So am I. What;" he says, when the silence grows eerie, "we kiss and make up, now, is that it?"

Julian sighs. "We've got a show to write." He feels Noel nodding with the whole of his body. There is a sliding noise of upholstry against black denim, and then the click of cuban heels. Hands on his knees; Noel's breath against his body. He knows what it is - an apology - and also what he desperately wishes it _could_ be, but they can't...

Noel kisses the top of his head, makes a joke about his shampoo, and they're safe again. You should want to feel safe when you've got kids, shouldn't you? Julian laughs along and pretends relief.

  
6.

Noel stops dead in the doorway, the door, forgotten, slamming behind him. "Since when did you get up at 5 AM?"

The lamp on the nightstand gives off a soft and forgiving light, yet Julian blinks in it, confusion registering in every pore of his worn-out face. With the faded-white hotel towel wrapped around him, hair dripping wet, he looks like a different man entirely. "Since I fathered sleepless twins. How did you get in here?"

"I stole your spare key last night." Noel waves the fiddly piece of plastic, throwing it onto the desk by the door. "How come you got two, anyway?"

"Noel..."

"I was trying to get in before he woke up."

"Before... what? Who? Me?"

Noel walks over to the bed, and settles to one side, fiddles with the ring Dee gave him. "You know. The elephant."

Julian closes his eyes almost forcibly. "Noel, did you sleep at _all_ last night?"

"No," Noel says, a little more quietly, because it sounds inane, even to him, now. "But you know. The elephant. Like you told Russel, that time."

The eyes open, just a fraction of a slit. "What?"

"The elephant in the room. That thing," he waves a hand back and forth between them, slapping the outskirts of Julian's wet towel. "You and me."

Julian exhales quietly, and forgets to hold up his towel, or perhaps he just doesn't care. It slumps down to his hips, sagging. With a hand so steady he surprises himself, Noel gently pushes it aside, and runs his fingers up Julian's side. "It won't kills us," he mumbles, leaning in. "Not after all these years. I'm pretty sure I've grown immune."

With a sharp turn of his head, Julian's frank, narrow eyes stare at Noel, looking straight at him, and Noel can't remember the last time they did that. Julian says nothing, and with a sinking certainty, Noel knows he's fucked up. "Shit," he mumbles, getting up. This is it. Not some great explosion, but a quiet, angry stare. This is...

Julian grabs his arm, and Noel turns to see what his eyes are _really_ saying. _Seriously?_ They ask. _We can have this?_

Noel smiles, and lets himself be drawn in. He spends the rest of the morning saying _yes_.


End file.
